


you burn me

by warraw



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (Comics)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Barebacking, Bottom Charles, Cock Rings, Come Swallowing, Deep throat, Dom/sub Play, Light Bondage, M/M, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, PWP, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Smut, Top Erik Lehnsherr, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-06-09 15:43:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19478986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warraw/pseuds/warraw
Summary: Erik didn’t allow him a blanket or any other cover, so he is curled up on his side, hugging himself. From where Erik is standing he cannot see the sweet curve of his ass, just his front. But it is enough to enjoy the view.





	1. Chapter 1

  
  
  
  
The lights are turned down low and Charles’ pale skin looks positively golden. His eyes are closed. Hair is mussed. Sweaty strands are curling, adorably so, plastered to his brow, his neck. Erik didn’t allow him a blanket or any other cover so he is curled up on his side, hugging himself. From where Erik is standing he cannot see the sweet curve of his ass, just his front. But it is enough to enjoy the view.

Charles’ cooling skin must be sticky, he thinks, belly still wet with come. When they are done, Erik will draw him a bath, will clean him thoroughly. Anal shower might be necessary to wash the remnants of drying semen crust from his hole. It may cause some serious irritation if left unattended and though Erik likes his Charles to feel him for days to come, he will abstain from prolonging a damage this once.

Erik looks his fill, while pulling on his pants and a long sleeve. The bedroom is not particularly warm. He stays barefoot, enjoying the accommodating plushness of carpet, the way it caresses the soles of his feet. 

As he comes closer to the bed he notices the shivering. Ah, good. The sight sends a slight jolt to his groin. Erik shifts his stance a little, schools his face and voice.

“Get up. Get out of bed.”

Charles’ eyes snap open when Erik’s order slaps him fully awake.

At first he looks lost, gasping for breath, mouth red and open. Erik observes his jerky motions impassively. When understanding settles in, Charles slowly props himself on his hands and knees while he is carefully stepping down from the bed with one foot, then the other, keeping his eyes down. Erik taught him well.

“You made the sheets dirty.”

Charles visibly flinches. The reaction makes Erik’s balls tighten.

“Change them. In the top drawer to your left.”

Charles’ head whips around to look for the said drawer. He bites on his lip, the minx, just as he bends to pull the sheets from the bed. He doesn’t move as though he is asleep anymore. Erik can say, just by looking at him spreading fresh linen, that nervous anticipation is pumping through his blood. He smirks. His Charles might be disappointed.

He doesn’t shift when Charles comes round to tuck the sheets from his side of the bed. Charles has to circle him to get to the headboard. Erik can’t help enjoying the sight of his ass, but Charles knows better and doesn’t provoke him like he used to: by bending over, stepping his feet apart and showing it to Erik. Needless to say, Erik made him pay for that cheap whoring. In a way Charles didn’t anticipate.

When Charles is done he goes back to stand by his side of the bed. His shivering has intensified.

“Fetch the remote. We will watch some movie.”

Erik finally moves. He stretches his legs on the bed, sitting with his back to the pillows. On the bedside table his travel case is waiting, as well as a lube dispenser. The dispenser is almost empty, so he makes a mental note to do some shopping. It also reminds him of those nipple pumps he would like to try on Charles. He catalogues that down too.

“Lie down beside me,” he orders when Charles returns with the remote.

The TV screen seems like a mated black mirror until Erik presses the button and it comes alive. His eyes flick back to Charles, finally laid down on his side again. An appropriate sliver of space is left between their bodies. There are shadows now on Charles’ face. For all that Erik can’t really see the blues of his eyes, eyelashes fluttering only slightly, he feels his pleading gaze on him. Charles’ lips part as he inhales wetly.

“How do you feel? Tired?”

“No,” Charles half-whispers. “I’m great. Wonderful. But I am,” he pauses, still embarrassed for no reason, “so sticky.”

“Good,” Erik replies flatly. “You are sticky because you are covered in come. I see no reason to wash you now, since you’ll soil yourself again in no time.”

Erik knows what Charles is talking about — he has just had a shower before rejoining Charles in the bedroom. Fucking Charles like he needs to be fucked is quite a workout. Erik smiles, putting his hand on Charles’ head — this tight ass is worth all the sweat and effort.

He chooses some nature documentary and lets the tale of African lion’s hardships fill the room. His hand is absently petting Charles, rubbing his scalp. The other is making tiny pleased noises at the caress. They go straight to Erik’s groin. It goes on until the tightening in his balls graduates to uncomfortable and Erik withdraws his hand. Charles whines, desperately, and even tries to chase his touch in protest.

“Behave,” Erik snaps then and watches as blue eyes fill with hurt.

He wants then to reach for Charles himself and hold him, but perishes the thought.

“Lie down,” he orders sternly, reaching for his travel case. “And spread your legs.”

He prepared a bullet vibrator for today. A shop assistant assured him it was the most powerful one. The toy is not wider than Erik’s two fingers, shaped like an elongated egg, which will be a perfect fit. He chose the purple one. And not because Charles was complaining about all his stuff being black.

With a vibrator in one hand and lube in the other he turns back to his charge.

“Spread them wider,” he demands, settling between Charles' knees.

Charles obeys. His knees are up, but not up to his shoulders like earlier. Now Erik notices his half-hard cock, looks at that dusky place below Charles’ balls where his hole is waiting.

That would be easier with a pillow under his hips, but it will do too. Erik spreads some lube on his fingers, warming it up, knowing that touching Charles there is dangerous. It is easy to snap when he breaches his hole, be it with his fingers or his cock. Erik needs all the control he can muster.

They both are breathing heavily when Erik starts rubbing lube around the entrance. Charles’ hole is always perky after sex, rim puffy and extra sensitive. Charles moans miserably as he is spreading lube inside. He is obscenely wet as it is, body storing Erik’s come and lube from earlier and keeping it warm. His Charles is such a keeper.

Finally, the egg goes in. The hole swallows its’ treat with a wet gulp. Only a string is visible now and Erik congratulates himself on a job well done when he twirls it inside and it rests against the spot. Charles cries out sweetly when Erik turns it on.

“Don’t move. You hear me?”

He gets a shaky nod and leaves panting Charles in bed and goes to the bathroom to wash his hands. Looking up in the mirror, he is surprised to find himself flushed. Not so surprised at the cock tilting his pants. So Erik washes his face. Wipes his face and hands very thoroughly. Takes his time to tame his breathing.

When he comes back, the documentary is still running in the background and Charles is still lying on the bed, his good, obedient Charles, with his knees spread and his ass full, his hands gripping sheets like a lifeline.

“Erik”, he whines and turns his head to him, cheeks wet with silent tears.

Erik doesn’t dare reprimand him.

Instead, he sits back on the bed and tugs Charles closer, lets him bury his head in Erik’s chest. Charles clings to him with a sob, drapes his upper body across Erik’s like he is drowning and Erik is his saving rock.

Soon, too soon judging by Charles’ dismayed cry, he pushes him away.

Erik grabs his hair and forces Charles’ head down, to his groin. His cock is so hard now he is afraid he’s going to come as soon as Charles’ wicked lips touch the head. So he improvises, forces Charles down, makes him rub his face on Erik’s thigh.

Charles’ face is wet with tears, he’s crying for real, weeping quietly, but through all that noise Erik hears a weak ‘please’. He lets go of him then and Charles lifts his eyes, so dark and so deep. He mouths his ‘please’ again, while his daring hand is hovering over the waistband of Erik’s pants. Charles is trembling all over. He is totally unable to hold himself up — the vibrator in his ass must be one hell of a distraction. Erik slaps his hand away and grabs his hair again.

“I don’t need your hands, mouth only,” he says, arching a brow.

He hears a breathy ‘yes’ and pointedly refocuses on the TV, while Charles is pulling the waistband of his pants down with his teeth. Erik registers a warm breath on his freed cock, then it rubs against something soft. Must be Charles’ cheek. Then a hot, wet tongue takes a taste of the leaking cockhead. Erik dimly thinks that he needs a medal for this or something. For not crying out loud when Charles opens his very gifted mouth and takes in the tip.

Erik’s remaining blood rushes south. He doesn’t pet Charles’ head anymore. He simply focuses on not coming while Charles is slowly bobbing his head. The air in the room is getting thicker and stuffier. Seconds are ticking by. Filled with heated, slow slurping. Erik doesn’t plan on spilling in his mouth, so he gives Charles’ neck a squeeze. It is gentle. A warning to stop.

When Charles pulls back Erik tips up his chin to judge the state he is in. Charles looks like he is on drugs. His eyes are half-lidded and expression slack, that impossible mouth plush and slick with their carnal juices. He seems to be at a point where he is about to lose himself completely. And Erik is not letting it happen until he is balls deep in him again.

He pushes Charles back, stands up, yanks him closer, to the edge of the bed. Erik parts his legs rather roughly, he grabs the slick string and simply yanks it hard.

The toy pops out — Charles yelps.

Yes, finally.

Erik throws his legs up, over his shoulders, and thrusts in. His grunt tunes out Charles sobbing his name.

He has to take in a few measured breaths, he has to try and settle himself, as Charles’ inner walls are squeezing everything out of him. Always so greedy, so fucking tight.

When he is pounding him a few first thrusts are slow, but then Erik speeds up. Charles rasps something, grows so tight, that Erik hisses a curse. And then Charles comes, spurting, nearly convulsing in Erik’s grip. Erik grits his teeth and after three deep thrusts pours inside the body, which quickly becomes limp.

_________________________________________  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Charles joins him in the kitchen when the clock strikes twelve and Erik is contemplating waking him up. He is wearing the sleeping clothes Erik put him into yesterday night, but his hair is damp from the shower and he already smells of Erik’s aftershave.

“Coffee? Breakfast?” he offers and Charles smiles a lazy smile, which brings a spark to his eyes.

“Yes, thank you. Absolutely,” he moves around slowly, crossing Erik’s spacious kitchen with careful steps.

Erik motions to the dinner table and Charles sits down. He is on a lookout for a wince and he gets what he expected, but this is a ‘savory wince’ not a pained one. Charles meets his gaze over a coffee mug. His blue eyes are projecting the level of affection Erik is nor prepared for.

“It was a challenge for me,” he speaks then, in a voice harsher than his normal. “With ropes it is so much easier.”

“It is in the name, Charles,” Erik’s lips quirk despite his best efforts.

Charles laughs a little.

“I guess.”


	2. Chapter 2

Erik was surprised when he got that. His finger froze over the screen for a split second of confusion.

_Are you free tonight?_

He is looking at the beginning of the message on the display. The rest is fading into white background, because Charles, when not fucked out of his mind, is verbose. He is apparently a wordy texter too.

The text looked innocent enough, except it was a Wednesday. He and Charles always meet at the weekends. The scheduled weekends. This is how it works best for them. For boundaries.

Erik pauses there, as some unnamed emotion breaks through his ordinary train of thought.

He thinks back to the last time they were together—Charles in his clothes in his kitchen, the smell of coffee and toast, sunlight splitting the space between them. So Erik opens the message that ends in a polite apology and assurance that in case Erik is busy it’s absolutely fine, and quickly types back— _Yes. Home at 8._

He sends it without an explicit invitation, but trusts Charles to recognize it as it is.

The doorbell rings just as Erik is contemplating whether it’s going to be wine or whiskey. Wine it is—he decides on his way to the door.

A glimpse of Charles caught on door intercom reveals him wearing a dark grey suit and a tie. His coat is folded over his forearm.

Erik opens the door, frowning a little. His suspicions are confirmed when Charles’ eyes meet his.

Charles offers him a small smile, tight on the edges. He is pale, certainly paler than normal. There is a sheen to his eyes Erik doesn’t like.

“Come in,” Erik urges him, faintly irritated for no obvious reason.

“Thank you,” Charles says. It rings deeper than your ordinary civility.

Erik takes his coat and a briefcase—their hands brush for a moment. Charles’ are cold, Erik notes.

“Oh, this is so thoughtful of you,” Charles is saying deceptively lightly, accepting the glass, hip leaning on the counter, while his free hand is tugging at the tie. “I have to compliment your taste. This wine’s olfactory side is exquisite.”

Erik is done watching him. He steps to Charles, brushes his hand away and loosens that tie himself. It’s always a delight to see how Charles’ eyes are blown wide in less than a second, how he swallows, throat visibly strained. Erik lets the ends of the tie hang loose and moves away. It’s too damn easy to get caught in the loop.

“Why are you here? What exactly do you want tonight?”

Charles looks like he’s bracing himself. He downs the glass and puts it on the counter.

“I don’t know,” he says at last. “I thought you might.”

“Charles,” Erik begins, but he is interrupted.

“I know this is not how it works. Not that I’m not enjoying it how it is because I am. But,” Charles’ eyes are dark as hell. “I believe our agreement needs some flexibility.”

He turns to pour himself another glass, but Erik snatches the bottle away and nods for him to put the glass down.

“You look like you had a bad day,” he observes as he fills the glass.

“God, yes,” Charles exhales, takes another sip. “But it’s not the reason why I texted you. I needed to see you, Erik. I’m glad you feel the same.”

So this is it. Charles is a needy creature; Erik has known it from the start. Charles is also beautiful. The way he looks at Erik from under his lashes, wetting those lips—red like sin. Color starts rising up his cheekbones. It outlines the dark strands falling on his forehead and the vibrant blue of his eyes.

“It’s not just about sex,” Charles blurts suddenly and Erik snaps back.

“What do you mean?” he demands.

“It’s fine. I see the way you are looking at me,” Charles finds his eyes. “And I meant to ask—would you like more?”

Erik pushes away from the table, stepping into Charles’ space. He presses Charles bodily into the counter, catches his wrist and makes him put down the glass. It clinks against the counter and topples over, safely away from the edge. Erik forgets about it that instant.

The kiss is rough. The way Charles yields and opens his mouth is intoxicating. He tastes like wine—what else? But kissing Charles simply feels sweet. Erik presses into him more, almost anxious to keep him on the spot, while Charles wraps his arms around him, clutching Erik’s t-shirt tight. Erik cups his cheek, angling his head slightly, and drawing a pleased sound out of Charles’ throat. It goes well until he tears his mouth away for a split second.

“We are still having this conversation later,” gasps Charles. “This is what I was trying to say—“

Erik gladly shuts him up with another kiss. He takes mercy on Charles’ back, pressed into the counter, and steps back, drawing Charles with him. His hand, meanwhile, slides up and tugs down that tie. Charles chases his lips when they part this time, breaths heavy and mouth half-open.

“Turn around,” Erik orders and sees how Charles jolts on hearing the command.

Charles could have obeyed faster, but it will do too, thinks Erik as he draws both Charles’ hands behind his back and ties them together with the tie. Erik pushes him away from himself a little bit to enjoy the sight of Charles: his fancy suit rumpled and head hanging low, now exposing a vulnerable patch of skin just above his stiff collar.

“I think I know now exactly what you came for,” Erik says, hands pressing on Charles’ shoulders. “Come to think of it, I haven’t had you on your knees for a while.”

Erik enjoys his share of resistance as he forces Charles down. When Charles’ knees hit the floor Erik buries his hand in Charles’ hair, tugs his head back and up, ignoring the drawn moan. He likes to watch as discomfort merges with lust on Charles’ upturned face, twists his features into a beautiful picture of submission. If the position is a drug for Charles, Charles’ reaction is Erik’s ecstasy.

His cock has been getting harder and harder as they were kissing and now he can’t wait to push into Charles’ mouth. Erik circles him, freeing himself. His shaft is already a heavy and pulsing weight in his grip. Erik jerks it some more for good measure. Charles never takes his hazy eyes off his cock—Erik feels something akin to pride.

“Open up,” he says, maybe unnecessarily, as he grabs Charles by the nape with one hand and is guiding his cock with the other.

Charles doesn’t need much prompting. He opens his mouth wide, staring up at Erik, as Erik carefully presses inside his hot cavern, past the constricting pressure of Charles’ throat. The first time they tried it Erik stayed still and let Charles do all the work. This once he maneuvers Charles in a position where his mouth and throat are in alignment. Wet, so wet. He groans, feeling the tightening around his cock. Charles’ throat technique is better and better.

“Your mouth is incredible,” Erik offers generously, his voice harsh and difficult to control.

Through ringing in his ears he hears Charles breathing heavily. Erik pulls out slowly until only the head is resting in Charles’ mouth, full of saliva now. Holding Charles’ teary gaze he pushes down again. His hand is running through Charles’ hair, not tugging, but guiding carefully. Erik repeats the motion three times. Three more times he holds his cock in Charles’ throat, enjoying the spasms, until Charles’ eyes screw shut and Erik pulls out a bit. Charles’ mouth is messy with running saliva—it dribbles down his chin every time Erik withdraws. His cock is thoroughly wet with it too.

“Charles,” he warns harshly. “I’m coming in your mouth. Make sure you swallow everything.”

With this Erik pulls back again, cockhead barely resting in the circle formed by Charles’ glistening lips. Charles moans, a sound that dies deep in his throat, as he extends his tongue and swirls it around the head, sucking on it with a deep guttural groan. The sensation combined with the sights does the job. Erik is coming, both mindful of his grip on Charles and not. For a moment he sees nothing and then he feels the wave retreat, leaving behind the desire to sag down to the floor.

He twitches as fog clears a little and sees his cock slipping from Charles mouth. And Charles, badly flushed and panting, is wheezing for breath, struggling not to gag.

Erik helps him up and draws him close. He wraps his arms around shaking Charles and cradles his head close to his chest until his breaths return to normal. Charles’ cock is hard. It is pressing into Erik’s thigh through layers that separate them.

“You did very well,” he finds himself saying. “I will let you come. Later. Now let’s get you out of your clothes.”

With hands still tied Charles has to let Erik pull off his pants and underwear. It’s unusual for him to be so overdressed when in Erik’s flat. But, Erik looks at him appreciatively—with white shirt half-way undone, a jacket almost falling from his shoulders, erect cock on display and naked elsewhere Charles looks just the right amount of obscene.

“Water?” Erik asks, noticing Charles gulping painfully.

“Please,” Charles rasps.

Erik holds a glass for him. Charles gulps water greedily, teeth scraping along the edge of the glass. Erik deems him okay after that. There are some things on his mind, things he is planning to do tonight, so he has to leave Charles alone for a bit.

“Go to the bathroom. Wash and prepare yourself while I’m busy. You know where the supplies are,” he says as he reaches behind Charles’ back to untie him.

He has no idea what Charles is going to wear tomorrow in the morning. The suit is pretty ruined.

Charles nods and shrugs out of his jacket. He is still breathing heavily, but that might be because of a very prominent hard-on Erik doesn’t want him to deal with.

“Remember, don’t come,” Erik repeats before leaving.

In the bedroom Erik turns up a heater. Charles will be spending the night and Erik feels like indulging him. He is also rather tired himself. That blow job relaxed him enough to make him sleepy. He grabs a loose t-shirt for Charles, soft and comfortable to sleep in, and smirks when he reaches for his new purchase.

The bathroom door is half-open. The steam is coming through as Erik steps in and finds Charles in the shower behind the glass. His one hand is braced on the tiles, the other is working his entrance open. Charles’ expression is torturous. Erik hums in approval when he comes closer and sees a cock ring fit round the base of his straining erection. How clever of him. That’s Charles for you.

“Do you need help?”

Charles gives him a pained and a touch angry look, mouth hanging open.

Being a stubborn minx he still shakes his head.

Erik shrugs. He takes his time undressing. Then, he snatches a tube of silicon lube, a black baller and joins Charles under the spray. Charles turns to him, blinking through water. His eyes land on the plug in Erik’s hand and he looks startled. The black baller surely looks intimidating. More like a dildo, except for a ring handle. It’s metal and thick, with five impressive spheres molded into its length.

“You can,” Erik interrupts Charles’ concerns. “You’ve taken my cock plenty.”

Charles then bites on his lip, flushing. He twists down the tap, stalls water and obediently turns around.

Erik lays his hand on the base of his spine, urging Charles to bend and arch his back a little. After, he squeezes a generous helping of lube on his fingers and slides them into Charles. Fingering, stretching his anus, priming Charles for taking the baller up his ass.

The first pop of the slick toy is accompanied by the groan. Charles balls his hands into fists as Erik proceeds pushing in one sphere after another.

When it’s over and a ring handle is peeking out between Charles’ cheeks Erik turns on water again. He presses Charles close, back to Erik’s chest, and reaches to fondle his cock. A moan and a sob later he unclasps the ring.

“Come, come for me now,” he orders and it seems as though Charles’ entire body seizes up when he orgasms with a scream.

Erik rocks him in his arms, holding on to Charles. Water is cascading down in warm rivulets. Gentle and warm.

Erik leans closer to whisper in Charles’ ear.

“The baller stays the night, by the way.”

Charles whimpers. Erik believes he sees his spent cock twitch helplessly.


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
  
  
  
He wakes up from his dreamless sleep as though stirred awake by a cruel hand. The room is quiet, but for Charles’ soft breathing with an occasional deep inhale disrupting the harmony.

He woke up too early. They have plenty of time to sleep. City lights are glowing in the window and the dark of the night speaks of wee hours. The moon is peering in the room, spilling all over the bed.

Erik shuts his eyes again.

He feels Charles pressed close along his side, can picture him without looking. Charles is sleeping on his side again, palms tucked under his head and knees slightly bent. Erik knows that even asleep he looks like a baby boy posing for a mag cover — so unfairly pretty in all his imperfections. He is facing away from Erik, but he is close, so close, that the duvet covering them doubles their shared body heat in the sliver of space between them.

Erik turns on his side too. His palm sneaks up Charles’ thigh and his nose almost gets buried in all that silky hair. It has been towel-dried, not done properly, so stray strands are sticking out more so than usual. He breathes him in, takes in the mixture of minty shampoo and that trademark richness of cedar he has come to associate with Charles. For Erik, he also smells of desire.

His heartbeat picks up as the images are popping up — him turning Charles around, body warm and pliant after sleep, then him spreading Charles’ legs and pushing into that sweet, delicious hole, so tender after storing a plug all night long and so ready for cock right now. This is a good morning which sounds truly good.

In moments like this he is proud of his foresight. No underwear for Charles when in his bed is rule number one. Mouth and ass must be ready. Always at Erik’s disposal.

As his hand wanders higher, up the tantalizing firm curve of Charles’ buttocks, Erik is wondering what sound Charles would make should he pull out the balled toy in one go — no lube, no foreplay. Would he scream upon penetration that follows, thrashing under Erik like a fish caught on the hook? Would Charles beg for mercy while Erik's cock is splitting his butthole, tearing right into that aching, unfilled channel?

His cock feels ready to burst now so Erik shifts his pelvis closer. He aims to push the tip of his erection in between Charles' ass cheeks. Before that he slides two fingers just to the underside of Charles’ balls. The skin is moist and hot there. Erik presses the tips of his fingers there — gently at first, firmly at last. Charles lets out a sharp half-stifled noise. He jolts a bit, waking up, digesting everything in a rush of the moment.

“Easy, easy,” murmurs Erik and moves his leg on top of Charles’ to keep him from moving.

His fingers don’t leave the spot, he just presses down some more and drags the skin backwards, up to the protruding plug.

Charles hisses out a quiet “oh, god” and Erik smirks when Charles sticks his ass out as much as he is allowed to do so in this position. Obviously eager to submit to whatever Erik is doing with him, to him.

Erik hums, satisfied, and after a few more minutes of wet panting and upward strokes, Charles begins to curve his body in on itself. The rubbing being too much.

Erik immediately withdraws. He pulls back altogether, roughly jerking back the covers from Charles and himself. It works its magic — Charles’ startled cry is worth it. When cold hits his skin, bare everywhere except for the tee prudently covering his upper body, Charles makes a motion to curl up again. As though to hide his engorged cock from view. Erik shakes his head in disapproval.

As he turns on the low bedside lights to see better, he instructs Charles.

“Lie on your back. I’m off to get lube. Don’t worry, you’ll be warm again pretty soon.”

On his way back he fetches a cushion from the living room.

Charles goes along when Erik pushes it under his hips. It immediately gives him a nice leverage. Charles’ legs naturally fall apart and put his dusky hole on display.

Erik makes sure to slick his cock first. It gives him a much needed touch of relief.

Then, he kneels on the bed with a task on hand. First, he slicks Charles’ pucker very generously. Next he grabs the handle and starts rotating it slightly, testing the motions. He is also quite enjoying the way Charles squirms and bites on his red-red lips. As puffy as the hole stretched out and pulsing with need.

“I give you two options,” he says. “One — I pull it all at once, but you wear it again during breakfast. Two —I will pull it out after I stretch you — I promise to be gentle. After all, you must be sore after having it inside almost all night long.”

“The catch?” Charles asks, breathless yet sharp.

He has his wide eyes on Erik. That and the flush on his face are absolutely mesmerizing.

“Is a surprise,” replies Erik, while his fingers are toying with the handle.

“First one,” huffs Charles, head falling back on the pillow.

He is nursing a small smile which turns into an open-mouthed gasp when Erik starts pulling the toy out. Spheres emerge with wet pops, glistening like jewels, the edges of that hole clinging to every single one.

Erik tosses it away, eyes homing on the entrance as he takes his cock in hand and touches the cockhead to the spasming ring. His slide there is easier than usual, aided by lube and continuous stretch.

Charles immediately wraps his legs around him and his fingers dig into Erik’s shoulder blades. His moan is half pain. He is holding Erik so close that Erik is almost plastered on top of him, aware of Charles’ erection pressed between their bodies. Tiny intakes of breath Charles is taking are hitting the juncture of Erik’s neck.

Erik stops when he bottoms out: his face is turned into the pillow, cheek pressed to the side of Charles’ head. By some miracle he twists his hand out of Charles’ octopus hold and pulls the covers back on top of them. The fabric gets instantly plastered to the skin of his back. The cocoon he made for them is hot and stuffy, and he feels sweat breaking out along his brow and torso. He threads his fingers into Charles’ hair as he simultaneously hoists Charles’ right knee up. It earns him a pained whimper. By now Charles’ fingers must be leaving bruises on his back.

When Charles arches up as though to throw him off, Erik decides that Charles doesn’t deserve any more rest. He pulls out, holding onto Charles’ bent leg and slams in. And then proceeds pistoning his hips into him, ravaging him how he deems necessary.

Through the fog in his mind, he hears Charles sobbing into his neck. Sobbing, yet holding on. And every other sob only spurs Erik. Every pained sound and a wet imprint of Charles’ mouth on his clavicle send a jolt to his spine, make him thrust into that delightful hole with abandon. In an instant, Charles twists agonizingly at the particularly vicious jab, but Erik just growls, the noise in his ears growing stronger.

He must have come sometime in a haze, because suddenly his limbs are heavy and he distinctly feels wetness in the very spot where he and Charles are joined. Erik blinks, hard, slowly realizing that he is lying on top of a wheezing Charles and the wetness he is feeling must be his seed seeping out of Charles. The hot sticking sensation in the area of his belly is Charles’ come. Must be it.

Charles' sweaty hair sticks to his cheek. The way he’s panting right into Erik’s ear is almost amusing. Like whistling. His arms are no longer wrapped around Erik, but Erik feels connected more than ever.

Erik urges himself to move, no matter that all he wants is to stay like that. On top of this beautiful man, and, he realizes with a start, still inside him. Suddenly, Erik changes his mind. He props himself up a little bit, enough to lift his head and look at Charles.

Charles’ eyes are glassy, lips parted, gulping in air greedily. Erik’s cock twitches. He brushes Charles’ hair away from his forehead and that pulls Charles back. Charles’ slightly unfocused gaze meets his and it should be insane, but Erik is growing achingly hard again very fast.

There’s a glimpse of disbelief in Charles’ eyes, which is like gasoline to Erik’s fire.

“No way,” Charles mouths, choking on words.

“We are not finished,” Erik points out, before he pulls back.

His erect cock brushes Charles’ thigh wetly. He doesn’t see the mess he turned Charles into, he doesn’t care about that right now.

“I want you on hands and knees,” he says as his hand finds Charles hipbone, a possessive reminder. “Turn around for me.”

He wants to go deeper. Deeper than before, if possible.

It takes some maneuvering under the covers, but it’s worth it. Erik takes hold of Charles’ ass, tugging those firm cheeks apart. His cock finds that warm and loose hole again. Sinking in is like coming back home. Erik embraces Charles tightly from behind, one hand palming his slowly rising cock gently.

“Keep on clenching,” encourages him Erik with a groan. The way Charles’ hole is clasping his cock is downright amazing. Wet walls squeeze his prick as though merging it within Charles.

While Erik is pumping into Charles lazily, his lips press just below Charles’ jaw. There it is, the spot he is looking for. Charles bucks up into his grip when Erik sucks on the skin there.

He spurts inside first, filling up Charles again.

And again he is hard in under a minute.

“One more,” he says, flipping Charles on his side and plunging him from behind.

This time he leaves Charles’ cock be and instead hitches up his tee. He finds and tweaks his nipples, unfairly abandoned up to now. Charles gasps weakly. His skin is so hot it seems like he is aflame.

“Please,” Charles moans in between gasps. “Please, oh, please.”

“Can’t,” Erik is bucking up into him faster and faster. “Want you so much.”

Charles’ feeble protests get drowned in his intense climax.

Later, he won’t remember how exactly he fell to sleep again, but one thing is certain — he fucked his Charles thoroughly that morning.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
